Page 112 of All That History
I flashed him a grin as I pulled out of the lot.
Chapter Thirty-One
After a few miles therewas enough warmth coming out of the vents that Flynn didn’t have to huddle over one.That meant he could focus on the second-most-important thing, which happened to be singing along to the radio and dancing in his seat.
“Just how many beers did you actually have?”
He winked at me, still singing - mostly the wrong lyrics, naturally, but not letting that dim his enthusiasm - while he reached out to crank the volume.
I shook my head, amused.“If you didn’t want to talk...”It was practically a shout, so as to be heard over the song.
Flynn nudged me in the shoulder, playfully, though he tried at least to make it seem like part of his dance.“Aren’t you happy?”
It’d come out as a bellow; I winced as I tweaked the volume knob down.
“I am, though you seem happier.Or is that just the drink?”
The electric slide was not designed to be performed in the front passenger seat of a twenty-year-old Chevy pickup, but he seemed determined to try.
“My cute boyfriend’s best friends approve of me, and he’s moving in with me tomorrow.What’s not to be happy about?”
“You bought them drinks,” I pointed out, “they were primed to like you.”
“Such a cynic.”
I laughed.“Fine, fine.They did like you, and I’m happy about that.And yes, I’m also happy to be moving in with you.Along with all the other emotions, that I know we’ve talked to death about.”
His fingers wrapped around mine on the steering wheel.“It’s a big step.It was for me, too.But it’ll be so much better, I promise.”
I nodded, watching the road.“I know.And I do believe you.Just...butterflies in my stomach.”
Flynn rubbed his stomach, with a groan.“Never mind butterflies, now I want takeout.”
“You’re in the sticks, remember.Your choices are pizza, burger, or cereal at home.”
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